baby talk

We had our friends and their toddler boy to the house for dinner last night. Since my husband is the child's godfather, A.J. has learned to call him Capo (to the question posed by Capo, "Do you want a piece of me?" A.J. says, "Okay!"). He squeals the name with delight. My name is not so easy -- he spat out several consonants and syllables in a row when his mom went around the room asking who was who. Perhaps this is why my baby sister (at that age) called me Dodie. We do not know to this day where that came from and of course she doesn't remember.

I could have talked to lil' A.J. all night long. His vocabulary is quite vast. He may even have 50 words -- his parents are his translators, but after some time with him I began to understand him. He's fascinated by machinery, so the garbage truck (remarkably his pronunciation of this word sounds like the one we use) they saw that day lifting dumpsters over its head and into its mouth dominated the conversation. There was also a forklift, and oddly, this comes out as "f***-ed up"! We introduced him to the moon, which became "mamoo." Then there's "numy" for food and "oooie" for water. When he became a wash of red-faced tears and wanted "uppie" but then could not be consoled, we were all left to wonder what he wanted. Perhaps he didn't know or perhaps he was frustrated that we didn't understand what he was so clearly communicating.

I think this is a fantastic stage in a child's life, and I love being around him as he stumbles on new things to do with his tongue that the people who tower above him slowly begin to understand.